


The Very Thought of You

by wordlesscaptain



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 10:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16952115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordlesscaptain/pseuds/wordlesscaptain
Summary: Working at a busy coffee shop in the heart of Midtown was extremely stressful and miserable, but there’s one customer who you can’t seem to get off your mind. | To be read with The Mere Idea of You.





	The Very Thought of You

You loved mornings like this, when the sun peeked at the horizon, debating whether or not to come out from under the blanket of night. The sky a creamy mix of pink and blue hues. The air outside so cold and crisp it hurt to breathe. Luckily, you were tucked away in a haven of warmth.

You danced through your morning routine with ease, seeing as how you had done it a hundred times before. Your first task was to start brewing the morning’s coffee, not only because it was going to be in high demand, but also because the aroma gave you a sense of tranquil. 

Once the soothing scent filled the space, you happily continued setting up for the busy day ahead. You delicately placed small candle centerpieces on cool marble tables, straightening the chairs as you walked by. You switched on the fairy lights around the windows, making the area cozy and inviting. You headed back to kitchen and set aside the now fully brewed coffee pot. After the pastries had been put on display, you turned your attention to the espresso machine, making sure everything was dialed in properly.

Already anticipating a headache from the impending onslaught of ornery customers, you selected a soft big band jazz playlist to accompany you for the day. You weren’t in the mood for the monotonous—albeit catchy—pop music your boss _preferred_ you to play in the shop. Classy jazz put you at ease, which was something you desperately needed at this job.

You could only hear the soft whirr of steamed milk, mesmerized by the ivory swirl inside the metallic pitcher. It was peaceful, but moments like these never seemed to last long enough. The jingle of the bell above the door signaled that your day had officially begun. You let out a small sigh and greeted the first customer of the day with a smile.

“What can I get you?”

“Coffee,” he replied flatly in a thick New York City accent.

“Will that be all?” you asked.

He grunted in response and shoved the money in your hand. You turned back and watched as the chestnut liquid filled the cup. You breathed in the scent and closed your eyes, wishing that the day hadn’t started yet.

“Hey lady!” the man wailed. “I gotta go.”

“Right, sorry.” You rushed back over to him and handed him his coffee. He took it with a huff and hurried out the door.

You sighed and shook your head. Today was going to be a long, miserable day. Working at a coffee shop in the heart of Midtown was torture. Most of your customers, if not all, were just like that man, crabby and in a hurry. Well, maybe not _all_ of your customers. There was one that stood out to you. He always came in with a pleasant and friendly smile, never forgetting to ask you how your day was going. He was charming, and, quite frankly, you couldn’t get him off your mind.

He stopped by quite often. You would definitely label him as one of your ‘regulars’. He had his usual—one black coffee, occasionally with a splash of milk. He would sit at the table in the corner of the shop next to the window and draw in his sketchbook for an hour or so before sending you a polite and cheery goodbye. He always managed to brighten your day. 

You always hoped he would stop by at some point during your shift. It felt silly and maybe a little ridiculous that your mind always wandered to him, especially given who he was. Someone who the entire world looked up to, America’s Golden Boy, was not someone who should occupy so much space in your mind, and yet…

“Mornin’, Y/N,” a familiar voice greeted.

Your eyes grew wide in recognition, a big grin instantly adorning your face.

“Steve,” you breathed. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he echoed with a smile. “How are you?”

“I’m good, great,” you smiled.

He smiled again. “Rough morning?” he asked with earnestness.

“Oh, just the same old, same old,” you shrugged nonchalantly. But on the inside you felt instantly warm and fuzzy, because somehow, even with the wide smile and cheerful greeting you gave him, he could still tell you were worn down.

“I’m sorry,” he hummed.

“It’s okay. Not all of the customers are terrible. So,” you paused, “the usual?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded.

“Coming right up,” you swiveled back towards the kitchen, filling up a glass with hot coffee. You returned and handed him the warm cup.

“Thank you,” he beamed. He stuck his hand in his pocket, fishing out his wallet.

“Nuh-uh, this one’s on the house.”

“But it’s always on the house. Let me pay you, just this once,” he pleaded.

“Consider it a thank you for protecting this crazy world. Lord knows you don’t get thanked enough.”

“Okay,” he let out a breath and smiled. “Thank you.”

“No, thank _you_ ,” you grinned.

He flashed you another smile before sitting in his usual seat next to the window, his sketchbook sprawled out in front of him.

Customers continued to shuffle into the tiny shop, various drink orders coming in from left and right. You tried to keep your focus on each caffeinated concoction you made, but wandering eyes kept seeking something— _someone_ —to rest on. Your gaze flitted to Steve, his face scrunched in concentration. His eyes held so much focus, as if the graphite lines were the only thing that existed in this world. God, how you wished he’d look at you with that much intensity. Those eyes boring into yours, so blue and warm they made the morning sky jealous.

“Snap out of it, Y/N,” you chastised yourself under your breath. Shaking your head to regain your composure, you turned your attention back to the caffeine hungry customers. You weren’t sure how much time had passed before that beloved familiar face walked up to the counter again.

“Heading out?” you asked.

“Afraid so,” he gave you a sad smile. “Duty calls.”

You nodded in acknowledgement. Your heart broke a little whenever “duty called”. It meant you wouldn’t see him for God knew how many days. It also meant he might not come back. His line of work was exceptionally dangerous and you couldn’t help but feel uneasy whenever he left. But he was a grown man and an Avenger for God’s sake. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Nevertheless, a part of you always worried about him.

“Be safe out there,” you gave him a small smile. “Can’t have my favorite customer getting injured.” Or _worse_ , for that matter.

“Always,” he gave you a sympathetic smile, as if already sensing your worry. Giving you a small wave, he walked out the door.

You sighed, trying not to count the unknown days until you would see him next.

—

It had been weeks since you last saw Steve. Every time you heard the chime of the bell above the door, your head snapped up in hopes to see those beautiful cerulean blues. His absence was taking a toll on you. You felt stupid that he affected you so much. Without Steve, work was terribly unbearable. Your customers were exceptionally rude and it was wearing you down. You hadn’t realized how much a beacon of hope Steve had become.

Today was an exceptionally bad day. An angry mother yelled at you for not making her cappuccino with skim milk, despite the fact that you actually _did_. You assured her that you did, but she swore she could ‘taste the difference between whole and skim and this milk was definitely whole and she was trying to watch her figure and it was insulting that you’d even dare make her drink whole milk and that behavior was inexcusable and should result in getting you fired’. 

Normally that behavior wouldn’t have phased you, but for whatever reason—the cold weather or the holiday season fastly approaching—customers had been getting much worse. You weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to tolerate working there. There were other barista positions in the city in much calmer locations with less entitled customers. But every time you thought of leaving, you thought back to Steve. If you left, you’d miss him terribly. Hell, you already _did_ miss him terribly and you hadn’t even left yet.

Trudging up the stairs to your apartment, you heaved open the door and kicked off your shoes. You slung your bag on the couch and made your way to your bedroom, plopping onto the bed face first with an exasperated sigh.

What you wouldn’t give to be wrapped in someone’s strong embrace, nestled under the covers while they whispered sweet nothings in your ear. Soft caresses and steady breaths. Warm gazes filled with yearning desire, like a waterfall ready to cascade over at any second. Waiting with bated breath until one makes the plunge, bodies suddenly tangled and needy. Wandering hands desperate to explore anything and everything they could get a hold of. Lips fervent and hot. Your hands threading through short tuffs of blonde. Azure eyes hovering over you as your bodies became one—

 _What the hell was wrong with you?_ Your mind had gone _too_ far this time. How had you become so infatuated with him? You barely knew him. You shared a couple of sentences with each other every so often and yet you were thinking of him in this way? You had gone from thinking about what witty thing you’d say to him at work to being under his gentle, passionate touch.

A small part of your always wondered if he ever thought about you the same way you thought about him. Did his mind ever wander to you throughout the day, wondering what you were doing at that exact moment in time? When something good or noteworthy happened, did he wish he could share those moments with you? Did the very thought of you consume his every hour?

You were always quick to diminish those thoughts. You weren’t anyone impressive or noteworthy. Just a single soul in a city of millions. But still, you always wondered.

_Little did you know - he thought about you, too._


End file.
